


patient heart

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: “Going to stick around for more than a week this time?” He asks, his tone biting, and she winces.

  “Bellamy--”

  “O said you were alone. Gonna be hard for you to fix up that house without your Mom’s money.”
 Clarke feels his words like a physical blow. Normally she would snap right back at him, accuse him of being a townie like she would have if she were still sixteen, but her wounds are too fresh, her heart too broken. She forces a smile. “Good to know you haven’t changed a bit, Bellamy. Still an asshole.”
  His eyes flash. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She sees hurt there in his eyes, buried under ten years of distance between them, and she looks away.
 “Well, as fun as this has been, I’m going to go.”  “Running away was always your specialty.” His words just barely reach her as she walks away, and she heads down the street quickly, before she feels the first tear fall. OR;Clarke spends summers in Arkadia in the beach house down the street from the Blakes. It's been 10 years since she left without a word.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Although I changed the name of the town where this exists, the idea for Clarke’s beach house is inspired by a friend of mine who owns a house in this neighborhood. I felt weird posting photos of her house, so here’s a rental that’s right down the street from hers, and is pretty similar, if you like a visual with your fic. The house is gorgeous! [click for a picture](https://www.vrbo.com/678631#) \-- Disclaimer: I don’t own that property nor do I know the people who do. All photos are theirs and theirs only. 
> 
> Special thanks to Emily for the graphic for the fic!
> 
>  
> 
> **SPECIAL EDIT; recently i received a ton of comments on this fic and i want to say i appreciate everyone who left a comment to share their thoughts! one thing i want to remind people is that fic writers are 1) writing for free and 2) expecting constructive criticism, not outright hatred for a story. i know not everyone is going to love everything i write, and that's okay! what i like might not be for you, etc. all i ask is that you please consider what you say to someone (and how you say it) before you hit 'post'. you are absolutely entitled to your opinions as readers, and i think that's what makes writing great - it's subjective in that mostly everyone will feel a different way about a story or character. but please - if you find yourself absolutely hating this story halfway through it, please click off. please don't finish it, and please don't comment on this telling me how terrible it is and how i make this fandom worse by writing. i respect everyone's opinions, but leaving comments for no other purpose other than to be mean spirited is not only pointless, but just plain rude. posting my stories here does leave them open for comments, and with that comes criticism, but please be careful with how you comment on people's stories. you never know what long term effect your words will have on someone who is trying to improve their writing and get better. constructive criticism can still be presented positively and be encouraging! ok. that's me off my soapbox. thank you everyone!**

_May 2016_

Clarke stares up at the old house, the peeling paint and cracked shingles making her throat feel tight and her eyes water. Dimly, she hears the sound of the lake in the background, the waves crashing against the shore over and over, but she feels fuzzy, almost like she has water in her ears. 

The key feels hot in her hand, and she’s clenching it so tightly she knows there’s going to be an imprint when she finally lets go, but she can’t bring herself to actually insert it into the lock and open the front door.

 _You need to do this_. 

The voice in her head is painfully familiar and she shuts her eyes, hoping to drown it out. Isn’t it enough that she sees him everywhere she goes? Now she has to hear her father in her head? Rolling her shoulders, she stands up straighter and forces herself to slide the key into the lock, twisting it to the left until she hears a _click_. 

The door creaks open, and Clarke is immediately assaulted by the musty smell and thick layer of dust that covers everything. The furniture is covered by bedsheets and plastic, and boxes are scattered throughout the entryway and the living room, pieces of their lives that they never came back for. 

Clarke’s head starts to pound as she assesses the house -- the entire place needs a good scrubbing and some of the windows look cracked. Trying not to step on anything breakable, Clarke heads over to the windows that still have the blinds closed and pulls them open, letting in some of the light gleaming off the lake. She manages to get a few of the windows unstuck, too, helping to alleviate some of the stale air that still lingers around the home. 

She’s about to head upstairs to see what state that level of the house is in when she hears the creak of the front door again, and she tenses, poking her head around the corner from the kitchen. Standing in the doorway is Octavia Blake, looking every bit the girl that Clarke remembers from her childhood, with a baseball bat in her hands. 

“Clarke!” Octavia half-shrieks. “I didn’t see a car but the door was open, and I thought some tourist broke in here--”

“I took the train.” Clarke says dumbly, still in shock at seeing the girl in her Dad’s house. _It’s your house now_ , that voice from earlier echoes around her brain, and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to shut it out. 

The next thing she knows, Octavia is throwing her arms around Clarke’s neck, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Neither can I,” Clarke mutters, but her arms go around Octavia easily, the faint smell of sand and sunblock reminding Clarke of summers spent on the beach, she and Octavia playing beach volleyball and riding their bikes to the ice cream stand down the road. 

“I have to tell you, we were beginning to lose hope of the Griffins coming back to this house again!”

“Octavia--”

“I know it’s been a few years, but it’s going to be really great to have you guys back on the street again--”

“Octavia, wait.” 

Octavia stops, likely registering the look on Clarke’s face. Octavia’s own face falls. “What happened, Clarke?”

Clarke swallows past the lump in her throat. “My Dad… he-- he’s--”

“Oh, Clarke.” Octavia whispers, and then Clarke is back in her arms again, trying to control herself as she feels tears leaking out and streaking down her cheeks. She’s been trying so hard to keep it together, ever since the funeral and in the days since then. She hasn’t let herself really let go and cry like she knows she needs to, and something about this place makes her want to let down her walls and finally _feel_ something, even if it hurts. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I-- it was a car accident. I thought--” she stops, tries to gather her thoughts. “I’m still trying to process everything.”

Octavia smiles sympathetically. “I get it. Look, I won’t say anything, okay? Not until you’re ready. Are you staying for the weekend?”

Clarke snorts. “Forever, more like. My Dad left me the house.” 

“You’re _moving_ here?!” Octavia yells, causing a smile to break out on Clarke’s face. “You’re going to need help. No offense, but this place looks terrible.” 

Clarke laughs. “No kidding. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we’ve all been here. I guess I need to start uncovering most of the furniture, and I need to get groceries…” 

“How are you going to get all that stuff back here?” Octavia scolds, hands on her hips. “I know you’re right down the street from downtown, but you shouldn’t carry that all by yourself. I’ll drive you.” 

“No, no, Octavia you don’t have to do that.” Clarke protests. “Really, it’s-- I need to-- I haven’t even been upstairs yet, and I’m not sure if I can…” she trails off, feeling dread settle into her stomach when she thinks about going into the room where her parents would stay, knowing that she would likely find some of her Dad’s things still in the room. 

“How about this,” Octavia says softly, “You do whatever you need to do here, and when you want to get out for awhile we’ll go get coffee. We can get groceries on the way back.” 

Clarke smiles. “That sounds good, O.” The familiar nickname slips off her tongue easily. “Thank you.” 

“You know where to find me.” Octavia says with a wink, and then she’s out the door, taking her baseball bat with her, causing Clarke to laugh breathlessly. It’s only eleven in the morning and today is already too much.

.

By early afternoon, Clarke has made her way through the entire house, and only broke down once, when she found one of her Dad’s flannel jackets still hanging on the post of his bed, like he would have been coming back for it. 

The house isn’t that large - it has two stories, though the top story is just two bedrooms and a full bathroom - so it doesn’t take long for Clarke to make her way through all the rooms, inspecting the damaged windows and dirty floors. She opens every window she sees, trying desperately to let some light and fresh air into the house that’s been closed up for the last ten years. 

Arkadia is a sleepy town that rests on the shores of Lake Michigan, and Clarke’s parents bought a beach house after vacationing here on their honeymoon. They rented the house that Clarke now owns, and bought it a week later after they couldn’t stand the thought of another family making it theirs. 

The house sits on the far end of a cul de sac down a dirt road, the large back porch facing the lake, giving Clarke an amazing view of the water, and later, the sunset. There are three other houses on the cul de sac, two rentals, from what Clarke can remember, and one other house, weathered, but still well-kept, owned by the Blakes. 

Clarke has known the Blakes for as long as she can remember. She was a baby the first time her parents brought her to the beach house, or at least that’s what pictures show. Coming to the house almost every weekend in the summer and even for some weeks at a time, she and Octavia had become fast friends. 

Clarke remembers being heartbroken when she was sixteen and her mother told her they probably wouldn’t be back to the beach house for awhile - she didn’t understand how her parents could just throw away a place that had shaped so much of their lives.

After a few more hours of cleaning, the place finally looked like someone lived there again, and Clarke stands in the kitchen admiring her work, her hands on her hips. Her stomach growls loudly, and unable to stand it anymore, she grabs her wallet and keys from the kitchen counter and heads out the door, pausing for a second to relish the feeling of the midday sun on her face. 

Taking off down the street, gravel crunching under her sandals, she takes her time getting to the end of the road where it meets up with the main road through town. She can hear the bustle of crowds and traffic as she gets closer, and groans when she sees the parking lot for the grocery store already full. Summer tourism season is in full swing, and at least now she doesn’t have to feel as guilty for not calling Octavia - she wouldn’t have had anywhere to park, anyway.

Heading into the grocery store, she braces herself for familiar faces, and is relieved when she only sees a few, and they don’t really give her a second glance. She’s not really ready to talk to anyone about her Dad, or her family, or what’s been going on for the last ten years. She really, really doesn’t want to have to explain to people she hasn’t seen in years why she’s back in Arkadia alone. 

“Clarke?” A voice interrupts her thoughts, and she turns to see the smiling face of Monty Green, his head sticking out from the doorway to the back of the grocery store. “I can’t believe it.”

“Hi, Monty,” Clarke says, smiling. “It’s been a long time.” 

“You can say that again. Listen, I have to drop off this shipment, but don’t go anywhere, okay?” 

He’s gone before she can protest, and she hears muffled cursing and the shuffling of boxes before he reappears, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“Did you take over for your Mom?” Clarke asks, referring to the fresh vegetables that Monty’s family was responsible for providing to the grocery store from their farm on the outer edges of town. 

Monty’s smile dims, but his eyes don’t look as haunted as she’s sure hers does. “Mom passed a few years ago. I took over the farm for her when she got sick.”

“Monty--”

He waves her off. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. The farm is doing pretty well. I’ve been able to hire a few people to help me out and we still have our contract with the store, so I’m doing okay.” 

“My Dad’s gone too.” Clarke says quietly, not sure why she’s blurting it out, other than that she can relate to what Monty must be feeling.

Monty looks stricken. “I’m so sorry, Clarke. Is that why you’re back?”

She nods. “He left me the house.” 

Monty plasters a smile on his face, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Clarke bites back a smile, appreciating the gesture. “Come by the farm when you’re free. I’ll give you some produce so you don’t get overcharged.”

“Oh, no, Monty I can’t--”

“You can, or I’ll just drop them off on your porch where you’ll have no choice but to accept it.” 

Clarke sighs. “You’re the best.”

“More proof that not much changes in this place,” Monty teases. “Take care, okay? I’ll be seeing you. I have a few more deliveries to make.”

Clarke watches him fondly as he goes, and reminds herself that not everyone here is going to think badly of her because she was gone for so long. Most people probably won’t even recognize her, she thinks. 

She gathers her groceries quickly, stocking up on staples and a few spontaneous items, like ingredients for s’mores. The fire pit on her back deck wasn’t going to use itself, after all. At the checkout, the young girl barely gives her a second glance, and Clarke is once again grateful. She remembers the women who used to work here when she was a kid, who spent the entire time gossiping about anyone who came in. She accepts her receipt and bags with a smile, and heads back out to the parking lot. When she gets there, she’s almost immediately run over by a shiny mercedes, and stumbles backwards, cursing loudly. Her back hits a firm chest, and she feels hands on her elbows steadying her. 

“Easy, princess,” a low rumble meets her ears, and she freezes. 

It’s not that she didn’t think she would ever see Bellamy Blake again -- he was her _neighbor_ now, after all -- but she just didn’t really expect _this_. This, being Bellamy Blake in a park ranger uniform, his shirt fitting snugly against his chest, his badge gleaming off the pocket. He didn’t have the hat on, but it was just as well - she was able to see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose much better this way. 

Shaking off the thought, she pulls herself away from him. “Bellamy.” 

“Clarke Griffin. Who would have thought.” He smirks down at her, and she swallows hard, stepping back further. “Octavia told me you were back.” 

Clarke shrugs, not sure what to say. “I’m still getting settled.” 

“Going to stick around for more than a week this time?” He asks, his tone biting, and she winces. 

“Bellamy--”

“O said you were alone. Gonna be hard for you to fix up that house without your Mom’s money.” 

Clarke feels his words like a physical blow. Normally she would snap right back at him, accuse him of being a townie like she would have if she were still sixteen, but her wounds are too fresh, her heart too broken. She forces a smile. “Good to know you haven’t changed a bit, Bellamy. Still an asshole.” 

His eyes flash. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She sees hurt there in his eyes, buried under ten years of distance between them, and she looks away. 

“Well, as fun as this has been, I’m going to go.” 

“Running away was always your specialty.” His words just barely reach her as she walks away, and she heads down the street quickly, before she feels the first tear fall.

.

Clarke spends the rest of the day in the house. She makes lunch and prepares some food for dinner too, and takes her time getting her clothes unpacked. She didn’t bring much with her on the train - just whatever she could fit in two suitcases - and the rest is coming by truck in a few days. She didn’t have much at her old apartment back home, either, but she has a box filled with some of her Dad’s things that she wants to put in the house, even though right now she knows it’ll hurt too bad to look at them. 

A knock on her door startles her, but she relaxes when she sees Octavia through the large sliding glass door that leads out to her deck. 

“You were supposed to call me before you went to the store,” Octavia scolds, seeing the food on Clarke’s kitchen island. 

“Sorry. I just needed to clear my head and I thought a walk would do it.” 

“Did seeing my brother help clear your head?” Octavia asks, and it sounds genuinely curious. “He told me he saw you and I could tell by the look on his face that he was probably a huge dick.” Her smile is sympathetic. “He’s too proud to come over here and tell you himself, but I know he feels bad about it.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “He asked me how I was going to manage to fix up this place without my parents’ money.” 

Octavia groans. “I’m sorry, Clarke. He’s just--” she flaps her arms in frustration. “He wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

“It goes both ways,” Clarke says, walking to the island. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“I have to go soon - I have a night shift at the yoga studio.” 

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “I never pictured you for yoga.” 

Octavia’s grin is rakish. “They also teach martial arts.” 

Clarke laughs. “That sounds more like you.” She pauses, her brow scrunching up as a thought dawns on her. “I need to get a job.” She starts pacing. “I’m such an _idiot_ , I can’t believe I moved here without even having a _job_ first--”

“Clarke--”

“What am I going to do? I don’t have any money, and I can’t fix this house up by myself! I have to hire someone, and I don’t even have any income.”

Octavia just stares at her. “You can probably figure all of this out in the morning, right? You should get some sleep before you lose your mind.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to stop the oncoming panic attack. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Look, I-- I really appreciate you being so kind to me. It’s been years, O, and I know I just left without a word, and we never--”

Octavia holds up her hand. “Stop it. Shit happens, Clarke. It bummed me out, and I missed you, but…” she stops herself, as if weighing her next words. “I’m just sorry that you’re back here because your Dad is gone, not because you wanted to come back.”

“I did want to come back.” Clarke whispers, remembering all the tearful arguments with her parents that first summer when they told her they weren’t coming back to the beach house. “I wanted to come back more than anything.”

“Will you tell me what happened? When you’re ready?” 

Clarke meets her friend’s eyes, remembering so many conversations with Octavia about their lives. They used to camp out on the beach and spend hours just talking about anything and everything. She hopes that they can get back to that place again, because Clarke knows deep down she can’t shut everyone out forever.

“I still don’t really know, Octavia. My parents… they’ve never been forthcoming with me about why we left. It makes me not want to know.” She swallows hard. “If I ever find out, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Octavia’s face shifts then, and she smiles cheerfully at Clarke. “I have to get going. Enjoy the sunset, and stop by tomorrow if you want. I don’t have anything going on until the afternoon. We can go for a walk, or something.”

Clarke smiles. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The younger girl hesitates before leaning in and hugging Clarke, but her hugs are just as tight and fierce as Clarke remembers them. She feels tears pricking at her eyes once more, but tries her hardest to keep them at bay.

After Octavia leaves, Clarke makes a pot of tea and takes her mug out onto the back deck, facing the water. It really is an incredible view. There’s a light breeze coming off Lake Michigan and Clarke closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. The sun is going down in shades of pink and yellow, and Clarke itches for her paintbrushes.

.

.

.

The next morning, Clarke wakes up on the couch with a crick in her neck. Groaning, she hauls herself upright, and heads upstairs to the bathroom. 

The only semi-clean looking mattress in the whole house was in the master bedroom, and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in there. It felt too weird. She knows if she seriously wants to re-do the house, she’ll have to eventually haul the furniture and extra clothes out of there, but not yet. She plans on putting that off for as long as humanly possible.

After showering, she throws her bathing suit on underneath a pair of running shorts and a ribbed tank top, and braids her hair away from her face, propping her sunglasses on top of her head as a headband. She’s not sure if she feels like swimming yet, but spending summers here taught her to always be prepared. 

When she gets outside, Octavia is already there, two to-go cups of coffee in her hand. Clarke’s mouth practically waters.

“Is that from the corner market?” 

Octavia grins. “Where else?”

Clarke accepts hers with a smile and bites back a moan when she smells her favorite vanilla brew. “You remembered.” 

“ _You_ were a coffee-holic even when we were kids.” Octavia counters. “I didn’t think that would have changed.”

“You’re right,” Clarke agrees as they begin to walk down the street towards town. “When I was in undergrad I used to have three coffees before the afternoon. It was a problem.”

Clarke takes in all the sights as they walk and she can’t help but see her Dad around every corner. Her grief threatens to overtake her when she walks, but she forces herself to keep moving, to keep her tears at bay.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s concerned gaze rests on her face. “I was telling you that I think I might have a solution to your job problem.”

Clarke smiles, a brittle thin line on her face. She’s sure Octavia knows that she’s _this_ close to breaking, but the brunette keeps talking, much to Clarke’s relief.

“There’s an opening at the historical society. It’s not much, but it’s a full time position and pays pretty well. I think it’s mostly filing, and doing some research. It might be nice.”

Clarke actually _does_ smile at this, remembering all the hours she, Octavia, and Bellamy would spend in the library and museums in the county on bad weather days. They would read for hours, and then ride their bikes back to their homes when they got hungry.

“That does sound nice. Can we stop by there on the way back?” 

She and Octavia keep walking, and pop their heads into a few shops to browse and say hi to some store owners that Clarke knows, and some that she hasn’t met yet. It’s not nearly as awkward with Octavia by her side. 

After, they head towards the historical society building near the town square, but Clarke pulls Octavia to a bench nearby and asks her to sit. “I figure I should explain myself now.”

“Clarke, you really don’t have to.”

“Yes I do.” Clarke takes a deep breath. “That last summer… my parents were fighting. A lot. I don’t know what about, but I know that it always felt like I was walking on eggshells. It was bad at home, but it was worse here, at the beach house. I didn’t know what to do.”

Octavia nods, encouraging Clarke to continue. 

“I still don’t know the whole story. We came home for a few weeks like we always did, and when I asked when we were coming back, they said we weren’t going back.” 

Clarke’s heart tugs at the memory, still fresh. 

_“Clarke, you need to understand that this is a decision we’ve made. It’s done.”_

_Clarke was astounded. “So you sold the house?”_

_Jake shook his head. “No, baby. We’re just not going to be going back there for a little while, okay?”_

_Clarke glared at her mother. “I have a car, you know. I could go there on my own.”_

_“You need to concentrate on school. You’re going to start applying for colleges soon.”_

_“Mom--”_

_“Clarke, that’s enough.” Her mother’s voice softened. “Look, sweetheart, I know you’re going to miss your friends and the house. We’ll go back there someday. But for now, you need to worry about your life here. Okay?”_

_Clarke had a feeling that they weren’t just talking about her anymore._

“They never told you why?” Octavia asks, jolting Clarke back to the present. 

“No. And I didn’t… I wanted to keep in touch, but I got caught up with school, and--”

“Clarke, I don’t blame you, okay? I missed you, but I’ll admit, I was mad at you for awhile, but…” Octavia shrugs. “Life happens. We’ve moved on. We can be friends again, now.” She smiles. “Make up for lost time.”

Clarke opens her mouth to reply, but a shadow falls over them, and she blinks, looking up to see Bellamy, a sheepish look on his face, and a frown present.

“I was looking for you,” he says to his sister, completely ignoring Clarke. She rolls her eyes. 

“Sorry,” Octavia says, not sounding sorry at all. “I left a note. Clarke and I had a date.” She grins, nudging Clarke’s shoulder with her own. 

Bellamy slides his gaze over to Clarke for a half second before frowning again, looking away. “I have to get to work. I have day shift today so I’ll be home for dinner.”

“I have a class tonight, so you’ll be on your own,” Octavia replies. Her face lights up suddenly, “I bet Clarke doesn’t have plans tonight!” 

Clarke stiffens. “Octavia--”

“You guys have a lot of catching up to do, anyway.”

Bellamy snorts. “You couldn’t pay me.” He tells his sister flippantly, and yeah, Clarke has to admit that one hurts. Has he really been holding onto this grudge for ten years?

“ _Bellamy_.” Octavia hisses, glaring at her brother. 

Clarke barely hears her, and stands quickly, almost knocking over her coffee. “You know what? I should probably get to the historical society and get an application before I forget. I’ll see you later, Octavia.”

“Clarke, wait.”

“It’s fine, Octavia. I don’t want to-- I’ve hurt you guys enough. Bellamy’s right. You shouldn’t want anything to do with me after not hearing from me for ten years.”

Octavia stands too. “I know you both know better than to try to tell me what to do or how to feel.” 

“I just don’t want to cause any waves,” Clarke says. “Thanks for all your help today, O. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

As she walks towards the other side of the town square, she can hear the Blake siblings start to argue, but she can’t hear what they’re saying. Her face feels hot, and she feels like she wants to run and never look back.

She’s beginning to think staying down state with her Mom would have been easier than coming to Arkadia. 

.

Clarke meets a girl her age, Harper McIntyre, at the historical society. Harper is the new Manager of Collections, and is thrilled at the idea of having someone help her sort through all the archives that they’re in the middle of doing inventory of. 

The job pays well, and seems like it might be interesting, and Clarke accepts the visitor services assistant position on the spot. Harper tells her she’ll probably be doing more than just assisting people who come in to visit or who call on the phone, and that every day will likely be different.

She isn’t due to start for a few days, so she’ll have time to get more settled in her home and unpack the boxes when they arrive. She leaves with a smile on her face and the panicked feeling about not having an income is a huge weight off her shoulders. 

That night, Clarke heads home and feels the exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. The sun is just beginning to set, so she drags a adirondack chair from the front porch onto the back deck, and almost collapses into it, sighing. 

She must fall asleep, because the next thing she knows, someone is shaking her awake. Blurry-eyed, she blinks up at the figure blocking the sun, and she frowns when she sees Bellamy. His hair is mussed in a way she remembers from when they were kids, and his uniform is wrinkled, and a little dusty. His badge glints in the disappearing sun. She flinches away from his touch. 

“It’s going to storm tonight. You should get inside.” He tells her gruffly.

Clarke looks up and sees that he’s right - the sunset that she fell asleep to is nearly gone now, covered by rapidly moving dark clouds. “I’m surprised you didn’t let me stay out here and get rained on,” she comments. 

“Believe me, I was tempted.” He mutters. He runs a hand through his hair and she sees him shift his gaze away from her as she stands, wincing at the creaking of her muscles. 

Clarke turns back before she reaches the sliding glass door. “Are you going to hate me forever?” She asks. 

He looks taken aback, but he hides it quickly. He looks at his feet. “I don’t hate you.”

Clarke scoffs, a bitter smile on her face. “You could have fooled me.” 

She doesn’t wait for his reply this time before she heads into her house, managing to get inside just before the skies open up. Later, she watches the rain come down on the lake from her back window, and when she sees a light come on in the house two doors down the road, she can just make out Bellamy’s figure doing the same thing.

.

.

.

 ** __**Summer, 2006

_Something hitting her window woke Clarke from her sleep, and she bolted upright. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got out of bed and walked to the window in the corner of the room. The bay window had an open sketchpad and some colored pencils atop it, and she pushed them aside to look out to the sandy beach below._

_“Rise and shine, princess!”_

_“I’m going to murder you,” she retorted dryly, and Bellamy chuckled._

_“You told me to wake you up, if you recall.” He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and shook his head like a dog, getting his wild curls out of his eyes._

_“I didn’t think you actually would.” Clarke replied, but she reached down and grabbed her sandals, knowing he wouldn’t give up._

_Once her shoes were on, she ducked out the window feet-first, and the sudden firm grip on her waist caused her to yelp._

_“Relax.” His deep voice rumbled seemingly through her whole body, and she fought off a shiver. “Come on, it’s this way.”_

_Clarke quietly studied him as they walked down the beach. She didn’t think she would ever meet someone who radiated confidence the way Bellamy Blake did. He was so sure of himself, and looked so comfortable in his own skin. Tugging self consciously at the hem of her sleep shorts, she envied him._

_They walked a little ways further down the beach, until they came to a quiet spot where the private beach ended, but before the public beach started. There were no houses down here, and no parking lots overflowing with people._

_“Shouldn’t be long, now.” Bellamy commented, plopping down in the sand. Clarke followed suit, and sat next to him._

_When Clarke heard that the Northern Lights could be seen from their side of Lake Michigan, she knew she had to see it before they went home for the summer. She asked Bellamy and Octavia about it, and they looked at her like she was crazy. They couldn’t believe she never knew that the Lights were visible from Arkadia._

_Almost on cue, the sky slowly started to change colors. Waves of blue, purple, and green flashed across the sky. Clarke’s mouth dropped open in awe. “Holy_ shit _.”_

_Bellamy laughed, nudging her with his elbow. “Language.”_

_“Bite me, Bellamy.” She retorted._

_When he was quiet for too long, she turned to look at him, finding him already looking at her, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were filled with something that she was a little too scared to name._

_“I should have brought my camera,” she said, changing the subject._

_“You’ll see it again.” Bellamy replies. “When you come back next summer.”_

_“Yeah.” Clarke agreed. “Next summer.”_

_._

_._

_._

Clarke has been in Arkadia for a few weeks before she sees Bellamy again. It’s not like she’s going out of her way to avoid him, but she figures his job keeps him busy during the day, and now hers does, too. 

The weekends are a different story, however. She sees him Saturday morning on his deck, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper, and her heart clenches at the sight of the familiar black-rimmed glasses on his nose. 

Later in the morning, Nathan Miller shows up, with a proposal from his construction company. He grins when he sees Clarke for the first time, and she does the same. Nathan was Bellamy’s friend, but Clarke always liked him. 

“Hi, Clarke.” He says, surprising her by giving her a hug. “I gotta be honest, I never thought I’d be able to get my hands on this place.” He winks at her, and just like that, the awkwardness is gone. 

“There’s a lot that needs updating,” Clarke warns him. 

“We’ll take care of it. I looked over the budget you sent me, and I think we can get it all done as long as there aren’t any surprises.” 

Clarke sighs in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t say that until we’re finished.” He says with a smile, and they go inside to go over all the plans. 

An hour later, they’ve agreed, and Clarke pays him half of the total cost for the job, scribbling her signature on a check. 

“You should be able to stay here while the work is going on, and we’ll always try to be done by dinner time each day so you’ll be able to sleep. If any of my guys give you trouble, or make a mess, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Nathan.” Clarke says, walking him back out to his truck that sits on her gravel driveway. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday then?”

“Bright and early,” he confirms. “Take it easy, Clarke.” 

Clarke watches him drive away, feeling accomplished as if she’d actually done some work on the house rather than hire a contractor. She told Nathan she wanted to help out with the work if she could, for some of the smaller projects, and he agreed, seemingly realizing how personal this was going to be for her. 

She puts her hand over her eyes as she turns to head back into the house, and she sees Bellamy making his way over, coffee mug still in hand. Her hackles rise immediately - she doesn’t know how to be around him anymore without being on edge. 

She can only guess what he’s going to say to her now, and she has to mentally brace herself. When he gets close enough, he lifts his mug in greeting, surprising her. 

“Looks like you’re getting some work done.” His deep voice sounds exactly the same as it did the last time they talked - still with a biting edge to it. Clarke tenses even more. “Getting ready to sell it?”

She tries, she really, really tries, but she can’t help but to glare at him. “No.”

When she doesn’t give him more than one word, he tilts his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Renting it?”

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Just trying to figure out when I’ll have to deal with more tourists.”

Clarke scoffs. “You’re a park ranger. Literally your entire job is dealing with tourists.” She turns her back on him, ready to go in the house and keep ignoring him like she’s been content to do for the last couple of weeks. 

“Are you just here to blow off some steam or something?” He asks her, and for a minute she can hear the undercurrent of desperation in his voice, like he genuinely doesn’t know why she’s back or why he cares.

Suddenly unable to hold back her anger for even a minute more, she turns around quickly, her hair flying into her face. “You really want to know why I’m here?” Embarrassment, sadness, and anger all brew together inside of her until she feels the telltale signs of tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m here because my Dad is _dead_.” She sees Bellamy’s face fall, sees the stricken look in his eyes, but she can’t seem to stop talking. “He’s dead, and he left me the house, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it standing here rotting away. I’m here because my Mom and I can’t be in the same room as one another without making each other cry.”

“Clarke--”

“I know you hate me because you don’t understand why I left, and I’ll probably never be able to change your mind because I don’t know myself, but I’m here. You need to get over it, and leave me alone.”

She turns towards the house then, not stopping this time when she hears his voice, calling after her. The tears spill over when she gets into the foyer, and she hates herself for giving in to her emotions like this. 

Heading upstairs, she sinks into the soft cushion of her duvet on her bed and sucks in lungfuls of air, trying to get her breathing back under control. “Stop _crying_.” She tells herself. 

A _thud_ from the adjoining room startles her, and she sits upright, her heart pounding. _Did Bellamy follow me in here?_ She wonders, knowing that Bellamy is not the type to just back down from a fight. But why would he not just confront her where she was? Unless he got freaked out by her bawling her eyes out, but even then, he’d probably stand there rubbing the back of his neck in that way he does when he’s uncomfortable-- she stops herself, trying to concentrate. 

Getting up from the bed, she heads into the adjoining room, the home office. When she gets there, her heart is fairly in it’s throat at the idea that someone might be in her home, and she has to stop herself from crying out when she sees two books on the floor in the middle of the room, books that she knows she didn’t put there.

Bending down, she gingerly picks one up, almost dropping it again when she sees familiar handwriting on the pages. 

_Dad._

Delicately she turns back the cover of the journal, brushing the dust off, and feeling her heart ache when she sees more of his familiar handwriting. 

_June 2004_

_We’re back at the lake for the summer, and I have to say, it’s a relief to get away from the city. Abby loves the hustle and bustle and the crowds, but I couldn’t last much longer without going crazy._

_We got back to some sad news - Aurora Blake passed away. She left the house to her kids, and even though Bellamy has recently turned 19, it’s still so much for him. I hope he doesn’t have any trouble with the state letting him keep Octavia with him. The last thing those kids need now is to be separated._

_Clarke has been good with Octavia though, going over there almost every night to watch movies and comfort her friend the only way she knows how - through friendship. I think Bellamy appreciates having Clarke around too, though he won’t show it. The two of them are like cats and dogs sometimes. I’m so proud of Clarke, though. She’s grown a lot as a person since last year._

_Next year she starts high school, and the changes will really come then, I guess. I know she’ll be great. I just hope I can convince Abby not to push Clarke in one direction or the other so much. Clarke needs to figure out what it is she wants to do, and what will make her happy._

_I’m expecting this summer to be another memorable one in Arkadia. If I can manage to get my part-time job at the museum again, we might be able to stay for the entire 3 months. Clarke would like that._

_Til next time._

_J._

Clarke is aware of two things: she has tears running down her face, and Bellamy _did_ follow her into the house. He’s hovering in the doorway, and his face is pale, his eyes wide. 

“Clarke?” 

She knows how she must look. She was upset before she found her Dad’s journal, but now… now she doesn’t know how to feel. She feels… almost happy that she has another thing of her Dad’s to keep. But she also feels so, _so_ sad that she’ll never read anything he writes ever again. 

“Are you okay?” Bellamy’s voice interrupts again, and she wants to snap at him, but she can’t find the energy.

“Like you care.” She mutters weakly. 

Bellamy crouches down next to her, glancing over her shoulder at the journal she still gripped tightly in her hands. “Is that your Dad’s?”

Clarke nods. She can’t speak -- she doesn’t know how long this has been here (she knows it’s over ten years old) and doesn’t know how it ended up in the middle of the room. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up as her mind immediately reaches wild conclusions, but she tamps the feeling down. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.” Bellamy says next, surprising her. “You’re right. I don’t understand why you left. I didn’t realize you were only here because--” he stops himself, swallowing. “I’m just sorry.” 

Clarke swipes at her eyes and doesn’t look at him, afraid she’ll break down again if she does. “I never meant to hurt you.” She says, and it feels like the air between them is charged somehow. “You were my best friend.” She whispers. They’re on the edge of something here, she thinks, and she doesn’t know how he’s going to react. She doesn’t know him anymore, not really. 

“That’s not fair,” he says, hard, standing abruptly.

Clarke blinks, wondering if she’s going to end up with whiplash from his mood swings. “Fair? I’m just trying to--”

“You left. Okay? You just up and left, and you left _me_ \--” He stops, right away. His eyes widen and then shrink again, like he can’t believe what he’s just said, and Clarke is stunned. She doesn’t know what to do, here. “You can’t just look at me like that and tell me you never wanted to hurt me like that’s going to fix anything.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Don’t--” he rakes a hand through his unruly hair, “Just… just don’t, Clarke.”

Clarke stands up quickly, brushing the tears from her face. “I don’t know what you want from me, Bellamy.”

Bellamy stops halfway down the stairs, his shoulders rigid. His eyes are wild when he looks at her. “You were all I _had_!” He almost yells, his voice a harsh sound in the otherwise quiet of the house. 

Clarke’s throat feels tight. She feels like she wants to scream, or cry, or throw up, or all three. She has a lot of emotions all warring for place in her body and she doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. Maybe coming back to Arkadia was a mistake after all. 

“You were my only friend, my _closest_ friend.” Bellamy says. “Every year all I could think about was getting out of this place. I looked forward to the summer, though, because you were coming back.” 

“And then I didn’t.” Clarke finishes for him, her voice low and sad. “I know I hurt you, Bell, but you don’t understand--”

“Don’t call me that.” His face twists back into anger. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to come here and try to talk to you.”

“Oh, is _that_ that what you were doing?” Clarke asks in disbelief. “It seemed more like you were yelling at me for things that aren’t my fault.” 

Bellamy’s eyes are dark. “Whatever, princess. I won’t try again.”

He leaves, and the click of the door shutting behind him sounds as loud as if he’d slammed it. 

.

.

.

_July 2016_

Time passes and Clarke starts to feel more and more at home. Work on the house is progressing, and after her initial panic that she would be cleaning out everything that once belonged to her Dad, Miller and his team made sure to keep everything pretty similar to how it is now. 

She’s enjoying her work too - getting to sift through old photographs and help Harper plan new exhibits and things they can do to celebrate the town’s historic birthday coming up. Clarke loses herself in the history of this picture-perfect little town. 

“Clarke!” Octavia bursts through the doors, causing both Harper and Clarke to jump. “Clarke, you have to come with me to town hall.”

Clarke’s eyebrow scrunches. “Why?” 

“Because my brother might murder someone and I need you there to be a character witness.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks, at the same time that Harper groans.

“The meeting is today.” Harper says, ignoring Clarke’s question.

“It’s today,” Octavia confirms, “and he’s going to punch Cage Wallace right in his stupid face and get himself arrested.”

“Someone tell me what’s going on.” Clarke says, hands on her hips.

Octavia looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “I know you haven’t been here that long, but you _have_ to have heard about the Wallaces.”

“They’re the worst.” Harper adds. “They’re from Mt. Weather and they’re trying to consolidate the towns.”

“The town up M-38?”

Octavia nods. “It’s got all the high-end stores so people end up going there on their way home from here. Bellamy is really against it.”

Clarke wants to smile. It sounds so much like the old Bellamy that she knew. “What’s the meeting about today?”

“Bellamy is trying to push it to a vote. They’re saying that we don’t have the infrastructure to support ourselves, but a lot of people know that isn’t true. Arkadia has been a self-sufficient community for almost 100 years!” Harper huffs, her inner historian coming out.

“And Bellamy’s been fighting it?” Clarke asks curiously.

“He’s been yelling about it, more like.” Octavia mutters. “He and Cage hate each other. You need to come help me talk some sense into him, Clarke.” She implores, her dark eyes wide.

Clarke laughs. “Are you serious? He hates me, Octavia. Why would he listen to me?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” 

Clarke is sure her wariness is plastered all over her face, but she knows she doesn’t have a good excuse to get out of this one. Plus, she’s sort of curious about how exactly this vote is supposed to happen. The idea of Arkadia being consolidated feels like a punch to the stomach. A small town like this one shouldn’t change so much.

They get to town hall in a few minutes, and before they even get into the front door, Clarke can see the crowd gathered and can hear the raised voices from inside. Pushing their way through, Octavia and Clarke find some empty seats off to the side, and watch as Bellamy and Cage quite literally circle each other. 

“If you think I’m going to let you and your people walk into this town and turn it into some robotic version of itself, you better think twice.” Bellamy is saying, his voice deep and threatening. 

“The fact of the matter, Mr. Blake, is that you don’t have any say in what I do or don’t do with this town. You’re not in charge.” Cage says, and Clarke instantly dislikes him. “Believe it or not, park rangers don’t have any real authority.” 

“Mr. Cage,” a member of what Clarke presumes is the city council, interrupts. “Can we please stick to the purpose of this meeting and not resort to personal attacks?” 

Cage puts his hands up in surrender, and heads back to his seat. Bellamy stays right where he is, hands planted on his hips and his eyebrows raised incredulously. 

“You have put this to a vote.” He tells the woman in front of him. “This town will not survive when the Wallaces decide they’re done with it. If they get their way, they’ll suck all the profit they can out of this place, and leave it worse than they found it while they laugh all the way to the bank.”

“Officer Blake--”

“Indra, you know me. You know my _family_. I’ve only ever wanted what was best for this town.” 

“Probably why it was good you stopped being a cop, huh?” Cage interrupts, his face twisted in a sneer.

Bellamy whirls around, his eyes furious. “What did you just say?” Before Cage can respond, Bellamy keeps going, “I am a law enforcement ranger, Wallace. I have a duty to uphold the laws not only of the park, but also of this county. That applies to you. So you can’t come in here, without a plan or a _permit_ and say you’re going to start building.” Bellamy glares. “It also means I still carry a gun, so don’t make me shoot you.” 

Before it gets further out of hand and before Clarke can think about what she’s doing, she stands, and steps forward. “I would go as far as to say that having a town hall meeting without actually letting any of the townspeople speak is a violation, Mr. Wallace.” She says, proud of how steady her voice is, despite the way everyone in the room turns to look at her at once.

“I’m sorry, Miss…” Indra starts, recognition flaring in her eyes even though she doesn’t say Clarke’s name.

“Clarke Griffin.” 

“Miss Griffin. We’re planning to open the floor to questions and comments as soon as we can get through this, frankly, long agenda.” 

“This meeting shouldn’t even be happening.” Clarke says, wondering where she’s getting her confidence from. “I’ve been to Mt. Weather, and no offense, but that kind of economy won’t work here. Not with the kind of stores and people running them we have already.” 

“Miss Griffin, I think you’ll find--” Cage Wallace starts, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, and Clarke feels anger boil in her veins.

“My Dad bought a summer house here when I was a baby. Part of the charm of coming back to this place year after year was the small town feeling, that feeling of things staying the same, and staying comfortable. There’s never been a takeover like this in the history of Arkadia and I truly believe the economy won’t be able to support itself, especially not when we rely on tourist season for the bulk of profit for shop owners. They should at least get to vote on what happens.” 

“Miss Griffin works for the historical society,” Bellamy cuts in smoothly, seemingly unaffected by her interruption, “and I would wager she’s probably the expert on what has and hasn’t worked out for Arkadia, economically speaking.”

Indra sighs. “Officer Blake, Miss Griffin, I appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this matter, but truth be told, we can’t even decide to put this to a vote unless we hear the full plan from Mr. Wallace.”

“We shouldn’t be hearing it in the first place.” Bellamy says, firm. “They’re going to come in here with their own stores and owners, and put all of our residents out of business.”

“Now, that’s just not--” Cage tries to interrupt, but Indra holds up a hand. 

“Bellamy, if you can put together an _actual plan_ for how we can boost profit enough to reconsider consolidating the towns, the council would be happy to hear it. Until then, we have to consider Mr. Wallace’s proposal.” Indra tells him, pleads with him, more like. The appeal to Bellamy’s personal side rather than his job title tells Clarke that this isn’t the first time they’ve all had this conversation. 

Indra’s demeanor also makes Clarke think that she’s not happy with the idea of consolidating the town, either. Clarke knows she jumped in uninvited, however, so she sits back down with Octavia, who is looking at her, smug. 

“I knew you’d fix it.” Octavia whispers, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Pretty sure I just made it worse,” she whispers back, her eyes on Bellamy and the way his jaw is tense, his eyes flicking over to her every now and then.

When the meeting officially ends, Clarke and Octavia file out with the rest of the town, all of whom basically showed up to what they thought might be a prize fight, and they all seem pretty disappointed that Bellamy and Cage didn’t resort to blows. 

When Bellamy comes out, his eyes scan the crowd until they land on her and Octavia, and he zeroes in on them as he strides over, his eyes dark and angry. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing at--”

“Bellamy--” Octavia tries to interrupt, but he seems hell bent on reading Clarke the riot act. 

“You have _no idea_ what is going on with this situation and yet you stride into a city council meeting like you’re going to lay down the law--”

“Can you please shut up for two seconds?” Clarke asks, her anger boiling over. “In case you didn’t notice, I did you a _favor_ in there, since no one else was going to stop you from saying something you’d regret.” 

“I didn’t ask for your help.” Bellamy hisses. 

“ _I_ did.” Octavia interrupts. “I asked her to come because I knew I couldn’t get through to you, and you needed someone to stop you before you went to jail.” 

Bellamy huffs, running his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t going to do anything stupid.” 

“Sure you weren’t.” Octavia doesn’t sound convinced. “Look, you could use Clarke’s help with this.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Didn’t you hear Indra? You need to put together a proposal. Not go in there, guns blazing, but a real, _actual_ proposal that needs figures and support from the people who live here.” 

Bellamy’s eyes soften, and Clarke wonders how old he was the first time the entire world was placed on his shoulders. He looks _tired_ , she realizes with a jolt. 

“Clarke and Harper can help you, and the rest of our friends. None of us want this to happen, either.” 

Clarke feels warmth spread through her at Octavia lumping her in with their group of friends again, because it’s been so long, and she wants nothing more than to feel at home again. Having a purpose, having something to live for instead of striving for some unnamed _thing_ to make her happy would be nice. 

“Fine.” Bellamy says, sounding resigned. “We should meet sometime this week to see who wants to get involved and make a plan.” 

Octavia turns to Clarke. “Can we use the conference room at the historical society?” 

Clarke blinks rapidly, not prepared for the weight of both pairs of Blake eyes on her. “It should be fine, but I’ll have to make sure Harper is on board.”

“She’s on board.” Bellamy scoffs. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, princess?” 

Clarke narrows her eyes. “I’ll get the room reserved and talk to Harper. I’ll call you and let you know what time.”

“Great!” Octavia exclaims, clearly trying to break up the tension that has ratcheted up between Clarke and Bellamy. “I knew we could count on you, Clarke.” 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, but he doesn't try to start an argument with her either, so Clarke takes that as a win and turns on her heel to go back to the office to finish out her day.

.

They have their first meeting a day later, and to say the mood in the room is awkward is an understatement. Bellamy seems determined not to look at, or speak to, Clarke, and everyone else seems to be looking to Clarke for direction since they’re in her workplace, which only makes Bellamy in a worse mood.

“Right. So I’ve pulled out a few articles and some documents that I thought might be helpful when we cite our case.” Clarke rifles through some newspapers and historical documents and passes them out to the people at the table - Monty, Harper, Octavia, Bellamy, and Miller. “There are over a dozen homes and businesses in town that are historical markers, so I don’t think the Wallaces would be able to touch those. However, that doesn’t stop them from trying to consolidate anyway and building around downtown.”

“That land belongs to the Park Service.” Bellamy says. “It’s protected by the federal government, so they won’t be able to touch that either.” 

“So where are the loopholes?” Monty asks, from his seat at the table. “I’m sure they’ve found any, if they exist.” 

“What if they just build around the entire town? Commercialize the outskirts so the downtown is largely overlooked.” Octavia asks. 

Everyone goes quiet as they try to predict what the Wallaces will capitalize on to get people on their side, and Clarke sighs. “We should start canvassing. Get postcards made with the main pieces of information, and make sure people know when they need to vote.”

“We can call the chamber of commerce,” Harper suggests. “They’ll probably help with the printing costs if we can convince them to support the cause.” 

“I could see if my Mom still has any contacts at the law office, they should be able to--”

“We don’t need any help from your Mom, princess.” Bellamy snaps, and everyone falls silent. 

Clarke feels a flush rising up her chest, but she tries valiantly to remain calm. “It might be a good idea to actually have a property lawyer willing to--”

“We’re not taking any charity.” 

Clarke makes a face. “Are you kidding? This entire project is charity. Everyone volunteered to be here--” 

“If you don’t like the plan we come up with, you can leave.” 

Clarke knows her face is red, and her throat is getting all tight the way it does when she’s trying not to cry. She is determined not to show it in front of Bellamy, but knows if she stays in the room a second longer, she’s either going to say something she regrets, or let her humiliation show itself all over her face. “Great. Well, I guess I’ll leave it up to you, then. Good luck.” She says, her tone icy.

“Clarke, wait--” Octavia says, but Clarke doesn’t stop, just gathers up her stuff and leaves the building, her cheeks burning. 

“Clarke!” 

Clarke slows down, shutting her eyes tight to ward off the tears. She takes a deep breath as Miller catches up to her. 

“Come back inside.” He tells her, not unkindly. 

“I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.” He says. “Since when can Clarke Griffin _not_ do something?”

Clarke smiles despite herself. “Look, I appreciate this, but I don’t want to cause a scene in there. I’ll just stay out of his way until--”

“We need your help, Clarke. He gets too stubborn sometimes, you know that.” 

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t think I know that much about him anymore, actually.” 

Miller is quiet for a moment, contemplating her. “Come back tomorrow. I’ll try to talk to him. Don’t let him get to you like this, Clarke. He’s just…. You didn’t see what he was like when Octavia told him you guys weren’t coming back.” 

Clarke’s heart twists. “It wasn’t my fault, I--”

“I know, Clarke.” Miller smiles sympathetically. “I’m just saying… he’s been carrying this grudge for a long time. I don’t agree with him, but it’s not going to go away overnight.”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Miller agrees.

.

Clarke gets home when it’s almost dark, her mind on a constant loop, replaying Bellamy’s words since she arrived back in town over and over.

Shaking her head, she lets herself in the back door of the house and sinks down on the couch, putting her head in her hands. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighs, trying to relieve the tension from her shoulders. She still feels like such an outsider. Her old friends were being more than welcoming, but the bitterness from Bellamy was becoming more than she knew how to take. 

It used to be that he would be the first person she saw when she came to town, and the last one to say goodbye. They never used to be like this, even when they were angry with each other. She feels sick as she thinks about the absolute disgust in his eyes every time he looks at her now. 

Clarke opens her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. Standing, she heads to the kitchen to put her kettle on, hoping a cup of tea will help her settle down enough to get some much needed rest. Something on the counter catches her eye, and she pauses, noticing her Dad’s journal, the one she found in the upstairs office, open on the counter.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up when she registers what she’s looking at, especially because she knows she hasn’t moved it. Carefully, she picks it up and looks at the pages it’s turned to, her heart pounding. 

_July 2005_

_I’m not sure how Abby and I are going to get through this, let alone how we’re going to deal with Clarke finding out. It doesn’t feel right to be in Arkadia, not anymore._

Clarke stops reading, her heart in her throat. She feels like she’s betraying her father somehow, to be reading the words he wrote in private, and to be reading something he clearly didn’t want her to know about. 

It mentions Arkadia though, the summer before they left for good, and she knows the answer is in here somewhere. She’s not sure she’s ready to know what it is.

Her phone rings then, scaring her, and she jumps, her hand flying to her chest as she tries to calm her racing heart. Looking at the caller ID, she sees her Mom’s name, and something in her chest tightens as she tries to decide what to do.

She hasn’t spoken to her Mom since she moved, and knows they’re only going to end up arguing about her moving back home, or whatever else her Mom can come up with. Clarke isn’t sure she and her Mom will ever get back to the relationship they had before her Dad died, and it saddens her to think that they’ll never be able to patch up what was once a healthy and loving relationship. 

She’s not willing to compromise, however. Her mom thinks she needs to move back home and go back to school, and Clarke has no intentions of going back to her old life. Life in Arkadia is tough right now, but she knows if she can stick it out, it’ll be worth it in the end.

Clarke ignores the call.

Clarke picks up the journal and closes it, putting it face-down on her coffee table. She wants to keep reading, but not sure she has it in her tonight to find out anything else about her broken family. 

Later that night, Harper calls to check in on her, and Clarke apologizes for rushing out of the meeting.

“I just… I got overwhelmed.”

“You should know that Octavia really lit into Bellamy for getting on your case like that. We need your help, Clarke. I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“I’m still coming back to work,” Clarke says, sulkily. “I’d just rather not be involved with this thing with the Wallaces.”

“Let me know if you change your mind, Clarke. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Harper says gently, and Clarke smiles. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve these friends that she’s managed to find again, but she hopes she doesn’t find a way to screw it up. 

“See you tomorrow, Harper.” 

Clarke hangs up and heads out to the back deck with a freshly poured cup of tea, feeling the need to clear her head with some fresh air. Like they always do, the waves on the lake seem to call to her, and she heads closer, shivering a bit at the cool night breeze. 

Dipping her feet in, she sighs at the feeling of the sand between her toes, and clutches her mug a little tighter when the current pulls at her, causing her to sway. 

Clarke remembers so many nights spent out here with Octavia, the two of them bundled in blankets talking about anything and everything in the universe. Clarke had never felt so free spirited as she did on those cool summer nights, and a pang of nostalgia hits her so hard she’s surprised she doesn’t stumble. 

“Careful,” a deep voice interrupts her thoughts, “that current is stronger than it looks.” Bellamy is barefoot, like she is, a sheepish look on his face as he walks closer. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his jeans, and he’s got a hoodie on, the strings blowing around in the wind. 

Clarke doesn’t know what to say, the anger from earlier in the day bubbling up again inside of her, so she just clutches her mug tighter, the bite into her skin giving her an outlet for the emotions inside of her. 

“Come to finish me off?” She jokes weakly, her words coming out more bitter than she intends. 

Bellamy winces. “No. I-- I’m sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke can’t help it - a disbelieving laugh bubbles out of her. “Yeah? For which thing?” 

Bellamy’s lips twitch, barely. 

“Did Octavia put you up to this?”

He frowns. “No… I saw you out here and--”

“That guilty feeling kept gnawing at you until you had no choice but to apologize?” 

A muscle in Bellamy’s jaw ticks. “Something like that.” He murmurs.

They stand there in silence for a few minutes before Clarke can’t take the tension anymore. Turning, she throws over her shoulder, “Well, as nice as this has been, I have to go.” 

“Wait.” 

Clarke knows she should keep going right on into her house and she shouldn’t turn back. Whatever Bellamy wants to say to her… it’s too little, too late. 

It doesn’t keep her from stopping, listening as his footsteps get closer, the sand crunching under his feet. “Come to the next meeting, Clarke.” 

“Why would I do that?” She turns back around, facing him. “You made it perfectly clear you don’t want me there.” 

Bellamy looks like he’s barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, and it’s so familiar that Clarke would laugh if she wasn’t so furious with him. 

“I need your help.” He says petulantly, barely saying it loud enough for her to hear.

Trying and failing not to let a smug smile crawl over her features, she baits him. “What was that?”

He sighs, his hands going to his hips, looking up at the sky as if it holds whatever answer he’s looking for. “I need your help on this, Clarke. _We_ need your help. Whatever our past is… it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve always been the resourceful one.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “We could use that now.” 

“I’ll think about it.” She tells him, and she thinks he sees it on her face that she’s not trying to be coy - she really isn’t sure if she can go through the emotional rollercoaster that is being in the same room with Bellamy Blake for longer than five minutes. 

The expression on his face shutters, and Clarke looks down at her feet, registering that she can’t really feel her toes anymore. 

“I should get inside.” She says, lamely, and he nods. 

“Yeah. Come by tomorrow, Clarke.” He implores, but she doesn’t answer him before she heads back inside to warm up. 

.

.

.

Clarke goes to the meeting the next day. It’s clear that her friends tried to convince Bellamy to apologize to her, given the initial awkwardness when she walks in the room, but when Bellamy glances at her while he’s leaning on the table, looking over some documents and smiles slightly, she thinks she hears everyone exhale.

The next month flies by, and their committee, with the backing of the Arkadia Chamber of Commerce essentially launch a campaign to encourage people to vote “no” on proposal 4, consolidating the towns. 

Clarke and Bellamy are going to present the proposal to city council together. Clarke suspects most of the members of city council are in agreement that a consolidation would be awful for the town, but they’re hesitant to speak out against the Wallaces. It’s frustrating, and Clarke thinks Bellamy is going to make himself sick with how much he’s stressing about the entire thing.

“You don’t understand.” He tells her one day as he’s pacing outside her office, waiting for Harper to make him a copy of a document he needs. “This place is all I’ve got. I-- I’m sure if the Wallaces get their hands on this place they’ll find a way to get me out of a job, and I’m not going to let that happen.” 

“You never said,” Clarke says, standing. “You never said what happened to get you off the force.” 

Bellamy’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

“In the town hall meeting. Cage said it was good that you weren’t a cop anymore.” 

Bellamy looks at the floor and Clarke immediately worries that she’s said the wrong thing. She doesn’t know how to read him anymore, and the guilt that swamps her is overwhelming. “I’m sorry,” she says in a rush. “It’s not my place, I shouldn’t--”

“It’s fine.” He answers gruffly. “I enrolled in the police academy when I was twenty.” He swallows. “My Mom had just died and I knew if I didn’t get a more stable job, they wouldn’t let me keep Octavia with me. I figured this would be the easiest thing. I’d get a healthcare plan, and a pension, and all that bullshit.” 

Clarke smiles at his phrasing, recognizing a little bit of the teenager she used to know. 

“It’s the county sheriff’s office up here, not a regular police station, so we have to answer calls in Mt. Weather sometimes, although they have a station there that normally handles things.” Bellamy sighs, and sits down on the chair near Clarke’s desk, leaving her perched on the edge of her desk, waiting for him to continue.

“I answered a domestic disturbance call one day.” He tells her, his voice growing dark. “Cage Wallace was involved. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but I found out after. Apparently he has a temper and tends to take it out on his girlfriend.” 

Clarke winces. “Bellamy, you don’t--” she tries to interrupt, knowing that Bellamy’s Mom had an abusive boyfriend at one point when they were younger. It was kept quiet, but Clarke is sure that Bellamy knew about every bad thing that ever happened between Aurora Blake and her boyfriend.

He waves her off. “It’s fine. I arrested him. It was a whole big thing. He wouldn’t stop yelling at me and threatening me, and eventually he got bailed out. He was never prosecuted and I ended up under investigation.”

“Why?” 

“He swung at me when I was trying to get him in the car.” He meets her eyes, his dark brown eyes almost black. “I swung back.” 

Clarke winces, only imagining how that must have gone over. It’s no wonder Bellamy felt like the entire world was against him - it’s all he’s ever known. He could have lost everything because of Cage Wallace.

“I’m sure his father had something to do with the way my case was handled. I was asked to resign from the police department. I think Kane took pity on me and gave me a letter of recommendation. It’s how I got hired by the Park Service.” 

Clarke frowns. “Kane?” The name was familiar, but she couldn’t put a face to it.

“Marcus Kane. The police chief.” 

Something niggled in the back of Clarke’s mind, like she should know this person, and wondered if she only knew his name because he was the police chief. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy interrupts her thoughts, looking at her concerned. “You okay?”

Clarke blinks. She can’t remember the last time Bellamy showed any kind of feeling towards her that wasn’t anger or disappointment. “I’m fine.” 

Bellamy looks like he’s going to push her, but he apparently decides not to, just nodding at her. “We’re canvassing tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

“I’ll be there.” She promises.

.

Clarke is at her desk in the afternoon the day after they canvass homes in the town when the bell over the door rings, and she looks up, plastering a smile on her face before she recognizes him when he comes in. His smile is saccharine sweet, and it makes Clarke sick.

“Miss Griffin, is it?” 

“Mr. Wallace.” Clarke acknowledges, her tone polite, but cold.

“Please, call me Cage.” 

Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes. She saw it on Cage’s face when he recognized her from the town hall meeting, and clearly he thinks playing coy is going to charm her and earn him some points. 

“I was impressed by your knowledge at the town hall meeting we had a few months back.” He says, peering at some items on the bookshelf near the desk. “I saw the fliers you’ve been putting out. They’re very… informative.” 

“Thanks, we planned that.” Clarke says, determined to keep her smile painted on, even if it kills her. 

Cage stops pacing, turning to face her. “Look, Miss Griffin, I’m going to cut right to the chase here. I think you’re wasting your time with this little committee. We’re going to consolidate, and frankly your talents could be much better used elsewhere.”

“I’m… flattered,” Clarke replies, “But I’ve chosen my side.” 

“Hm,” Cage hums. “You know, I was curious about you. I didn’t know your parents had such a history in Arkadia.” 

Clarke’s hackles rise. “We spent summers here.” 

Cage smiles, and the look of it makes Clarke’s stomach turn. She’s got a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she has a fleeting moment where she wants to just up and run, anxious about whatever Cage Wallace has up his sleeve.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I learned quite a bit about your mother recently. Tell me, have you spoken to her in the last few months?”

Clarke’s eyes harden. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

Cage holds up his hands placatingly. “I just think she would be proud of what you’re doing, that’s all.” He says, and Clarke glares.

“I’d like you to leave.” 

He smiles again, shark-like. “I’ll be seeing you, Clarke Griffin.”

.

.

.

“Next time, call me.” Bellamy says, handing Clarke and Octavia each a mug of tea over the counter in the Blake house, notes for the next town hall meeting spread out in front of them.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I can handle Cage.” 

“He’s dragging you into this because of me.” Bellamy says, frowning. 

“Don’t take it so personally,” Clarke snaps, “I don’t know why he thinks going after me would be a way to get to you, considering we can’t even stand to be in the same room half the time.”

Bellamy looks hurt for half a second before he looks down, swallowing hard. A heavy silence falls over the room.

“Sorry.” Clarke mutters. “I didn’t mean that.” And she didn’t, really. She’s still so confused sometimes about how to act around him now that they have a truce, of sorts. Bellamy was _so_ standoffish when she first came to town, it’s hard for her to believe that he’s forgiven her, just like that.

She knows, though, that Bellamy is a good person. A better person than she is, probably. If he’s decided to forgive her, it’s probably best to be thankful for it rather than trying to keep pushing him away. 

“He’s probably just lying, anyway.” Octavia says, trying to break the tense silence. “Why would he know anything about your Mom?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I…” she trails off, hesitant. “I keep finding my Dad’s journal lying around. There are entries from the summer right before we left for good, and they’re so vague but it seems like… it seems like my parents were going through something.” 

Bellamy frowns. “What do you mean, you keep finding it around?” 

“I didn’t even know it was here,” Clarke says, holding her mug close to her face, inhaling the sweet smell of green tea. “I found it on the floor that day… that day you came into the house after me.” 

Octavia looks between the two of them questioningly, but neither Clarke or Bellamy stop to explain. 

“I found it again the night of our first committee meeting, out on the island. It just keeps showing up. Maybe I moved it and forgot, I don’t know. I sound crazy.” 

“Maybe you’re supposed to read it, Clarke.” Octavia says, a small smile on her face. “It’s kind of cool, isn’t it? Maybe there’s something in there your Dad wanted you to see.” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Are you talking about a ghost? Seriously?” 

Octavia smacks him lightly. “They’re _real_ , and it might be Clarke’s Dad, so shut it.” 

“Whatever you say.” Bellamy says, grinning around a bite of a muffin. “So… what does your Dad’s journal have to do with any of this?”

“Like I said, it seems like my parents were going through something, years ago. What if… What if Cage and his Dad know about it? What if it was something bad?”

“Clarke, your Dad was a saint. That’s impossible. Your parents were only here for a few months at a time. I know your Mom had some friends in high places in this town, but it’s probably nothing.” Octavia assures her.

Clarke bites the inside of her cheek, staring into her mug. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. It just freaks me out.” 

She can feel Bellamy’s eyes on her, like he’s trying to figure her out, and she squirms in her seat. “I should get going. I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday.” Bellamy points out.

“The contractors are coming in the morning and I want to leave before they start making a lot of noise.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Bellamy says, taking her mug from her when she holds it out for him. He sets it in the sink and then gets up, walking with Clarke to the front door. “Listen, don’t pay any attention to anything Cage Wallace has to say.” He rubs the back of his neck, almost like he’s nervous to talk to her.

“I didn’t, I just thought it was weird.” 

Bellamy frowns. “Do you think whatever happened between your parents is what made them not want to come back here?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

Bellamy nods, and they both lapse into an uncomfortable silence, not sure what to say or do with this new, tentative friendship between the two of them. 

“We’ve got our town hall meeting on Wednesday; don’t forget.” He tells her, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Like I could forget with you barging into the historical society panicking every day.”

“I’m not panicking.” 

“Whatever you say, Bell.” The nickname slips out of her mouth unbidden, and she freezes, looking at him with wide eyes.

He looks stricken, and she curses herself for saying it so carelessly, as if the nickname doesn’t carry pounds of emotional baggage with it. She remembers him spitting at her the first time she called him that in ten years, _don’t call me that_. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says quickly, and he’s back in the house before Clarke can say anything else, or figure out what the strange look on his face meant. 

.

At the meeting the next day, everyone is nervous. They’re prepping for the big town hall discussion that night, which will go a long way towards convincing the townspeople to vote ‘no’ on the proposal in the coming weeks. They need to have a strong showing, with notable people from the town supporting them, or else they’ve got no chance. 

Bellamy recruits Marcus Kane, the police chief, to speak with them, and Clarke can tell it means a lot to him to have the man who was once his mentor there, on their side. 

Clarke is nervous to speak out so publicly, mostly because she’s still afraid that the people who live in this town think of her as some rich girl who is just spending time in Arkadia until the next best thing comes along. She wants them to know that she plans on being here for good, but she doesn’t know if she can convince them. 

She remembers Marcus from when she was a kid, and smiles warmly when they’re re-introduced. 

“Clarke, it’s good to see you again.” He says, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He seems nervous, and Clarke wonders how hard Bellamy had to work to get Kane to agree to this.

“You too. Thank you for doing this. We really needed the support.” 

They break for dinner after a few more hours of planning, when Clarke decides she can’t look at any of the plans anymore without getting a headache. 

“Don’t freak out.” Octavia says, sidling up next to her, grinning. “You guys are going to be great tonight. I can’t wait to see the look on Cage’s face when he gets pummeled.” 

Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Figuratively,” Octavia adds wryly. 

After they eat -- well, Miller eats, everyone else just seems to pick at their food -- they head back to the council room to get set up. People start filing in just before seven o’clock, and the butterflies start swarming in Clarke’s stomach.

Indra takes her seat, and calls the meeting to order, gesturing that Clarke and Bellamy should come forward. They do, Clarke ignoring the feeling of Cage Wallace’s eyes on her everywhere she goes as she grabs her notes. 

“When you vote in a few months,” Bellamy tells the crowd, “You’re not just voting on a proposal. You’re voting for the future of this town.” 

He and Clarke go over the figures, painstakingly making their case to keep Arkadia and Mt. Weather separate. Marcus Kane speaks, and several members of the city council who are in favor of the two towns remaining separate. After, Bellamy shoots Clarke a relieved grin as they take their seats. 

“I don’t want to get too cocky, but I’m pretty sure we nailed it.” He whispers.

Clarke snorts. “You, cocky? I never would have guessed.” 

They share another small smile, and Clarke feels a piece of her heart settle into place at how _normal_ it seems. It’s as if there was never a huge rift between them, as if she never even left in the first place. They quiet down as Cage Wallace walks to the front of the room. He makes eye contact with Clarke, and she tenses, her jaw tight as she watches him adjust his tie before he turns a semi-charming smile on the townspeople.

“You all know how much respect I have for the people of Arkadia.” He begins, and Bellamy scoffs quietly. “What we’re proposing here is not a takeover, like you’ve been told. This is for the mutual benefit of our two towns, and I think voting ‘no’ is a terrible decision.” 

He goes on for awhile longer, fielding some questions from concerned shop owners and citizens. Clarke brightens when she can tell that _he’s losing_. He seems to realize it too, because he holds up a hand and gets out some of his notes, his face hardening. 

“I appreciate all of your questions and concerns. I’d be more than happy to keep answering them, but I know I’ll be running out of time soon. With that being said, I want to make sure you know what you’re really voting for. As Officer Blake and Miss Griffin said, you’re voting for the future of the town. Do you really want _them_ to make that decision for you?”

A murmur ripples through the crowd and the bottom of Clarke’s stomach falls out. Immediately, she’s on edge. “What is he doing?” She whispers to Bellamy, who is sitting tense next to her, his jaw clamped shut, eyes dark.

“I don’t know.” 

Cage continues. “After all, why would you listen to any of the people who have spoken to you tonight? Do they really represent you?” 

“Mr. Wallace--” Indra tries to interrupt.

“My apologies. Let me get to the point. Officer Blake was fired from the police force because of an investigation after he assaulted someone.” 

Clarke straightens in her seat, her blood roaring in her ears. He _can’t do this_. 

“Clarke Griffin has only recently moved to the town full time. Do you really think she has your best interests at heart? Sure, her parents were involved in the town when they lived here, but again, it was a part time interest at best.” 

His gaze lands on Clarke, something cruel in his eyes.

“And most importantly, do you really want to trust Marcus Kane, a police chief who not only had an affair, but did it with Miss Griffin’s own mother?” 

The place erupts into chaos, and everyone is seemingly shouting at once. Bellamy is on his feet immediately, his voice deep and dangerous as he tells Cage that he’s out of line. Clarke barely hears it. Her heart is pounding in her ears and all she can think of is the look on her father’s face when he came home from dinner with her mother one night, the last summer they ever spent together as a family. 

All she can think of is the journal entry that she found that has never made sense to her until now. 

Cage shouts over the din. “The police chief is not here because he believes in this policy! He’s here as a favor to Clarke Griffin’s mother. How is that fair politics?” 

Finally, the crowd quiets, but Clarke doesn’t wait. She’s on her feet before she realizes what she’s doing, and heads for the door. On the way out, a hand grabs her elbow, and when she sees Marcus Kane looking back at her, his eyes anguished, she shakes him off almost violently. 

“Clarke, please--”

“Let go of me.” She says coldly, and he does instantly, regret filling his features. 

Clarke pushes open the double doors of the conference room and bolts outside, struggling to catch her breath. Squeezing her eyes shut, she takes a few panicked breaths before digging her phone out of her pocket, her eyes blearily trying to make out the words on the screen.

The door behind her bursts open suddenly, and then Bellamy is there, his eyes wide and panicked. “Clarke--”

“Right now is really not the time, Bellamy.” She bites out, hating herself for how her voice shakes. 

“Clarke, put the phone away.” He says gently, walking closer to her.

“I have to make a call.”

“Clarke, you’re going to end up saying something you regret.” 

“How could it get worse?” Clarke laughs bitterly. “We already barely speak. This should just be the last straw.” 

Bellamy watches warily as Clarke dials, and holds the phone up to her ear. When her mother answers, anger fills her veins and Clarke almost can’t speak. 

“Clarke. I was starting to think you would never call.” Abby Griffin says. 

“Please tell me, Mom, why I just had to find out about you and Marcus Kane in a public meeting in front of the entire town of Arkadia.” Clarke’s voice is like ice. 

“W-what?” 

“You had an _affair_ , Mom!” 

“Clarke, you don’t understand.” 

“I understand that you cheated on my father. I understand that because you did, we sold the beach house and never came back. I _understand_ that because of me, probably, you two stayed together even though there was nothing left to salvage, and I _understand_ that now _my_ character is being called into question in a public environment because of you!” Clarke is breathing heavily by the time she’s finished, and Bellamy’s presence at her side is almost too much. She takes a few steps away and tries not to look at the flash of hurt in his eyes. 

“Clarke, please.” Her mother’s shaky voice penetrates her thoughts. “It was a mistake. I-- we-- your Dad and I were going through a rough patch and it was a mistake. I never meant to hurt anyone, especially you.” 

“You should have told me the truth after he died.” 

Abby sighs. “What would that have done? All it’s done is made you angry.” 

“At least it would have been the truth! At least I could have mended some relationships that I lost because you made a stupid decision ten years ago!” 

Bellamy interrupts at that. “Clarke, don’t.” 

“I have to go.” Clarke says, and ends the call abruptly. 

“Clarke--” Bellamy reaches for her, but Clarke takes a step backwards. 

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. Maybe this whole plan was doomed from the start. You were right - you never should have gotten me involved. Maybe then this plan wouldn’t be a total and complete failure. All because of me and my parents.” 

“You don’t know the whole story. He could be making it up.” Bellamy is practically pleading with her. 

“You were right, Bellamy. I’m a selfish person from a selfish family.” She laughs. “Like mother, like daughter, right?” 

“No. No, I was wrong, Clarke.” 

“I have to go home. I can’t stay here.” 

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy’s voice takes on a dangerous edge. “I know you’re hurting, Clarke, but we have to go back in there and finish this.”

“ _We_ don’t have to do anything! You know, I understand now why my Dad couldn’t stay here anymore. How could he, when the police chief slept with his wife? How am I supposed to stay in a house where my Dad was so miserable?”

“Don’t do this. Don’t push everyone away because you’re upset.” 

“I need to go home and think, Bellamy. I’m sorry.” Clarke turns on her heel and gets halfway to the parking lot before she hears him.

“You’ll be just like her if you leave now.” 

She turns slowly. “You’ve said it before, Bellamy. Running away is what I do best.”

.

.

.

When Clarke gets home, she tears her father’s office apart, looking for all of his journals. She doesn’t want any of them. She wants to burn them, or throw them away… she wants to get them as far away from her as she possibly can. 

She feels awful, knowing how much her Dad was hurting the entire last summer they spent in this house. She knows that he did it for her -- stayed here in the same town with her Mom even though they were probably barely speaking. 

As she’s pulling books off the shelves, an envelope falls to the floor. Stooping down, Clarke picks it up. She opens it and takes out the note, and her breath hitches when she reads it.

_Jake,_

_Please know that I never meant to hurt you. All I’ve ever wanted was for all of us to be happy and to finally have the life we’ve always wanted. I never meant to do this to you, to any of us._

_I’m sorry._

_Abby_

Clarke feels like her head is spinning. All this time, she had no idea that her parents were going through something like this, or that her father was hurting so much. She thinks back to the day they told her they weren’t coming back to Arkadia and the way her parents could barely look at each other, and a fresh wave of tears starts for her father. 

She also thinks of the look on Bellamy’s face when they first saw each other again after all these years, and it makes her want to cry. He’s hated her for years because he thought she _chose_ not to come back to Arkadia, to their friends, to _him_.

Grabbing her jacket to keep her dry during the rain that’s started since she got back, she takes a deep breath and heads out the door towards the Blake house.

.

“Clarke! God, I’m so sorry--” Octavia says as soon as the door opens.

“I should be apologizing for this whole mess.” Clarke sighs. “This is all my fault.”

“No!” Harper interjects. “This has nothing to do with you. Clarke, you should have seen how many people were yelling at Cage for bringing that kind of personal attack up on you.” 

Monty hesitates. “Maybe you should go talk to Bellamy. He looked pretty broken up about it.”

Clarke frowns. “Why would he want to see me? We’ve just started to get along again, and now I’ve ruined any chance we have to get that proposal stopped. I told him I wouldn’t be part of it anymore. Why would he want to see me?”

Harper smiles sadly. “From what I’ve heard, you were always the one who could get through to him when no one else could.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. She looks around at this room of her friends and their semi-hopeful faces, and knows she has to do this. She has to find Bellamy and work with him to get this proposal stopped or she won’t be able to sleep at night knowing she just gave up everything they’ve been working so hard for.

That, and it would only give Bellamy another reason to hate her.

“He should still be at the station. You’ll catch him if you leave now.” Octavia says, as if reading Clarke’s mind.

Clarke hugs Octavia on a whim. “Thank you. Really, O. For everything.” 

Her heart racing, Clarke heads to the ranger station, nearly taking the door off its hinges when she gets inside, her blonde hair flying around her as she skids to a stop, her wet shoes sliding on the tile. 

“Clarke?” 

“Bellamy. I need to talk to Bellamy.” Clarke says, not looking at Marcus Kane. 

“Clarke, wait. I need to--”

Clarke holds up her hand. “Please don’t. I’m-- I’m not ready to hear any more about this yet.” 

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice interrupts, and she could weep at the sight of him, a concerned look on his face as he comes out of his office. “Did you walk here?” 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Save the protective act, Bellamy. I have to tell you something; it’s important.” 

Bellamy glances at Kane warily, but gestures for her to follow him into what she assumes is the break room at the station. 

“I was going through my Dad’s things. I found a letter. My Mom tried to apologize. It was dated a week before we left for good.” 

Bellamy stares at her. “They never told you. That’s why you never came back.” 

“Bellamy--” 

“I resented you for it all this time, and the whole time you never even…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. 

“I wanted you to know. Bellamy… my whole life I let my parents make decisions for me. Well, my Mom did, anyway. I never wanted to leave. That’s why I came back here. I _wanted_ to. I chose this place.” 

“Clarke--”

“I _chose_ to help you with this proposal, too.” Clarke takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to give up. You were right. I can’t run away from this. I won’t.” 

Bellamy’s looking at her with a look on his face she’s only seen a few times before, but this time she doesn’t shy away from it, or from him. This entire moment feels inevitable. They were always attached at the hip as teenagers, and it feels like she was supposed to come back to Arkadia, to come back to Bellamy.

“Let me drive you home and we’ll talk about what we’re going to do next.” He tells her, a smile on his face, almost shy. 

On the drive back to her house, he glances away from the road for a split second. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He sighs. “Clarke… you forget that I _know_ you.” 

Clarke falls silent, her mind going back to summers ago when that statement was probably the only thing she knew to be true.

_August 2004_

_“If you buy me an ice cream, I’ll drive you to the beach tomorrow.” Bellamy tells her, his eyes sparkling._

_“Your charm doesn’t work on me, Blake.”_

_“Come on! One mint chocolate chip scoop. That’s all I’m asking for. It’s, like, a hundred degrees out here.”_

_“I’m broke! You’re the one with the job.” She nudges him as they walk, eyeing her reflection in his sunglasses._

_“Don’t turn this around on me; I bought last time.”_

_They decide to forgo the ice cream completely, content with walking with each other through town._

_“You’re leaving soon, huh?” He asks, his voice tentative._

_“Uh… yeah. Yeah.” Clarke confirms, her heart sinking. “I wish we could stay.”_

_“You’re going back to school. It’s important, Clarke.”_

_“Still. I could transfer! We already have a house up here, and it’s not like I have any friends back home keeping me there.”_

_Bellamy smiles sadly at her. “Me either.”_

_“Shut up, yes you do. You’ll be fine without me.”_

_“Don’t count on it.” Bellamy says glumly, his fingers brushing Clarke’s as they walk._

“I just… I can’t believe that my Mom would do that to my Dad. I’m still not sure it feels right to stay here, in that house.” 

Bellamy turns onto their street, guiding the car up the gravel drive to her house, rain still pelting the windshield. “You have a reason to stay here now, Clarke. A job, friends.” 

“My Dad probably thought the same thing!” 

“You are not your mother, Clarke. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Deep down she knows Bellamy’s right, but she feels overwhelmed and isn’t sure how much more she can take before she cracks. “I can’t listen to this.” Clarke says, opening the passenger side door and getting out before he can stop her.

“Clarke!” He calls after her over the sound of the rain. “Stop!” 

Clarke whirls around, her heart in her throat as she looks at Bellamy, his eyes wide and pleading as the rain pours down on them both. 

“My Mom and Dad were supposed to be in love! They were supposed to be the be all, end all for each other!” She rakes her hands through her hair, frustrated, feeling the first few tears slip out. “She cheated on my Dad and because of that, he could never come back to the one place on Earth where he felt like himself.” 

“Clarke.” Bellamy says her name, just her name. It’s hoarse, and it’s almost like he’s begging her not to continue.

“My Dad and my Mom spent so much time apart at the end of his life that when he died in that car accident, he probably thought she didn’t have an ounce of love for him left.” Clarke manages, her voice catching on a sob as she finishes her sentence. “How could she do that to him? To _me_?” 

“Clarke, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to be the same.” Bellamy says, taking a tentative step towards her. 

“Yes it does, Bellamy, can’t you see that? I push everyone away at the first opportunity and I’ve been so, _so_ selfish. I up and moved to a new town without a single thing, without a job, without thinking about anything else but _my_ selfish need to find some solitude.” 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Clarke. Look at what you’re doing now -- you’re doing everything you can think of to save this town, to preserve what everyone here holds close to their hearts.” Bellamy takes another step closer and Clarke is momentarily distracted by a raindrop that slides down the bridge of his nose. “God knows I treated you terribly when you came back, Clarke. I--” Bellamy cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “I was simultaneously so happy and so terrified to see you again, because I realized the minute I saw you in the grocery store parking lot that I love you just as much now as I did ten years ago.” 

It’s like all the breath gets knocked out of Clarke’s lungs. 

Bellamy continues, “When you left that summer, and never came back, I was miserable. I thought you’d finally realized that I was never going to be the kind of person you needed to be happy. When you came back… I was so _angry_. I missed you like hell and seeing you again… it was everything I wanted and-- I was convinced if I didn’t protect myself then you were going to be gone again.”

“Bellamy…” Clarke whispers, her voice gravelly. She hates that she’s caused him so much pain. She never knew how Bellamy felt about her, not really, and she hates that they’ve wasted so much time. 

“I won’t let you run, Clarke. Not again.” Bellamy says, his eyes clear and voice firm. “You are not your mother. You’re not doomed to live some… some loveless life. I know it hurts to know about your parents, but you can’t let that make your decisions for you.” 

Clarke becomes aware of two things: one, she is probably going to wake up with the flu tomorrow after standing out in the rain all night, and two, while attempting to avoid Bellamy’s eyes as he tells her everything she knows she _needs_ to hear, she looks to her left and notices the door to her house is open. 

“Bell--”

“Just… just _talk_ to me, Clarke. If I fucked everything up with what I said, I’m sorry, but--”

“Bellamy. Someone is in my house.” Clarke says, her voice shaking. 

Bellamy’s head snaps to her front door, and she watches as his entire demeanor changes. His body goes rigid and his jaw clamps shut, his eyes darkening. “Stay here.”

“I am not going to sit here--”

“God dammit Clarke, just listen to me for once in your life.” Bellamy says, eyes softening after his harsh words. “I can handle this.” He says, his eyes stormy, and he strides towards her porch before she can say anything else. 

Clarke follows him, of course. When they get inside, her house is eerily quiet. There’s nothing, no signs of anyone being inside, no noises to tip them off if anyone is trying to get out from the back door. 

“I don’t hear anyone.” Bellamy says, echoing her thoughts. “Stay here, I’m going to look upstairs.”

“I’m coming with you, you idiot.” Clarke whispers. 

Bellamy rolls his eyes, but goes up the stairs first, Clarke right behind him. Together they check all the rooms, and find nothing. There’s nothing out of place, and the house is still so, so quiet. 

“Clarke.” 

Bellamy turns around to face Clarke at the same time she turns to look at him, both of them with wide eyes.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Bellamy tells her, going pale. 

“ _Clarke_.” 

Clarke blindly reaches back until she connects with Bellamy’s hand, and squeezes tight. She feels his hand grip hers back. “That sounds like my Dad.” Clarke whispers, and Bellamy chokes out a laugh. 

“Clarke, that’s crazy--”

“Is it?” Clarke turns around to face him, her hand still in his, “Bellamy, I heard it, _you_ heard it. Maybe that’s why I keep finding my Dad’s things around and why I keep thinking I see--”

“Clarke, look.” Bellamy interrupts her, his voice firm as he spins her around by her shoulders, and Clarke gasps, feeling her knees go weak.

“Dad? Bellamy, I--”

“I know. I see him.”

It’s her Dad, there in front of her, down the hallway, but not really there. Clarke is sure she’s losing her mind. “I don’t understand.” 

“Clarke, you don’t have to worry about me.” Her Dad says, and she breaks right away, her free hand flying up to her mouth to stop the sob that wants to escape. “I’ll be happy if you are, too.” 

“How can I be happy when I know-- when I know that Mom--”

“I loved your Mom. She loved me too. We just lost each other a little bit along the way.” 

“Dad, I can’t--”

“You can, Clarke. You can forgive your mother and move on. You can do this.” 

Bellamy’s hand lands on her shoulder, and he tugs her backwards lightly, until the line of her shoulders rests against his chest. Clarke appreciates the comfort, because she doesn’t have the slightest fucking idea how to deal with this. A _ghost_. 

“I don’t know how.” Clarke admits, her voice cracking.

Her Dad smiles. “I know you’ll figure it out. I love you, baby.” He turns then, and begins to move out the doorway.

“Dad--” Clarke chokes, moving away from Bellamy and towards the door. “Dad!” She calls, panic setting in. She doesn’t want him to go. Rushing out the door, she heads towards the stairs.

“Clarke, wait!” Bellamy calls, but she doesn’t listen. She keeps going, convinced she has to get to her Dad before she never sees him again.

Forgetting about her wet clothes and shoes, she feels a swooping sensation in her stomach when she trips, and feels herself hit the first two steps on the way down. 

It all goes black.

.

.

.

When Clarke comes to, the first thing she sees is Bellamy. His face is cradled in one hand as he dozes in the chair next to her hospital bed, and his hair is adorably mussed.

Clarke winces as her eyes struggle to adjust. “Ow.”

Bellamy’s head shoots up. “Hey, you’re awake.” He says, relief coloring his tone.

“What happened?”

“You fell. Down the entire flight of stairs.” He sounds angry, and Clarke winces again.

“I didn’t _mean_ to.” 

Bellamy sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I-- this is all my fault.” 

Clarke can’t help it; she laughs. “How do you figure?”

“If I never would have gotten you involved in this mess, you never would have found out about your parents, and--”

“And I never would have chased the ghost of my Dad through our house and fell down the stairs? Do you know how crazy you sound?”

He smirks. “To be fair, I just told the doctor you slipped and fell. I didn’t mention the ghost.” 

They both grow quiet. “I can’t believe that happened.” Clarke says softly. “I’m still not sure I’m not crazy.” 

“If you are, I am too.” Bellamy says wryly.

“Well, I knew that already, though.” 

“Cute.” 

Bellamy smiles at her, and she feels like she’s sixteen again, smitten with the boy down the road who looks at her like she puts the stars in the sky. 

.

.

.

_2 Weeks Later_

Clarke inhales deeply as she sits on her back porch, her feet tucked up underneath her and a cup of coffee in her hands as she watches a storm roll in off the lake. It’s far enough away that the sun is still out at her house, but she can feel the wind picking up and hear the distant thunder. 

She had a long day at the historical society today - lots of term papers for the local high school students means more and more of them coming in to go through the archives. It feels good to help them, though, and she’s even learning some of their names, making her feel like she’s actually starting to fit in. 

“Coffee for your thoughts?” A voice interrupts her musings, and she smiles when she sees Bellamy peering over the edge of the porch, a takeaway coffee cup in his hands.

“I already have some.” 

“Good,” he says, coming around to the steps. “I was hoping you wouldn’t take this from me.” He takes a sip of the coffee, grinning after he swallows.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you busy today?”

“I had enough for one day. I put Octavia in charge.” 

Clarke snorts. “She’s going to put fliers all over the entire town.” 

“Well if she does, I might actually have a shot.” 

Their friends and several members of the police union have convinced Bellamy to run for Sheriff when Marcus Kane’s term is up after the election. After all the work he did to get the town consolidation proposal on the ballot for the citizens to vote on, he’s shown his loyalty for the town. He’s a write-in candidate, so it’s still a long shot, but Clarke knows he can do it. 

Bellamy sits down next to her and follows her gaze out to the lake. “We’ll have to button down the hatches tonight, I think.” He says absently, running a hand through his hair.

Clarke takes a minute to study him - his chiseled features, the freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks, the carefree look in his eyes as he enjoys the cool breeze. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Did you mean it?” Clarke blurts.

Bellamy’s brow furrows. “Did I mean what?”

“What you said to me that night in the yard. About--”

“About how I love you?” 

He says it so casually, his head tilted to one side as he considers her, and Clarke again feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone like Bellamy Blake. 

“Yeah. That.” Clarke croaks, and Bellamy laughs.

“Of course I meant it. Clarke, I--” He turns sideways so he can look at her better, “I’ve been in love with you for the better part of ten years now. I don’t think I ever stopped, even after you left.”

“How?” Clarke asks, her voice breaking. “How could you love me? After everything?” 

“I never said it was easy,” he jokes, his eyes sparkling. “I was angry at you, after you left. Hell, Clarke, I was heartbroken. The one girl I ever wanted was halfway across the state and I had no way to get in touch with you. I tried to look you up online and tried to find your phone number, but--” he sighs, “I thought _you_ chose not to come back. I didn’t want to-- to bother you.” 

“Bell--”

“I know. I know that you didn’t choose it. I’m just saying-- if I didn’t still care about you, it wouldn’t have hurt so much to see you come back. I thought I dreamt you right out of thin air.” Bellamy scoots a little closer, his hand finding hers, lacing their fingers together. “You were my best friend, Clarke. It wasn’t hard for me to fall in love with you.” 

“You…” Clarke hesitates. “You hated me, Bellamy. When I first came back, you were--”

“I was a dick.” Bellamy grins at her, his cheeks pinkening. “I was an asshole and I hate myself for it. I just-- I didn’t know how to process it. You.” 

“And now?” Clarke asks, wondering when her voice got to be so breathless, or when she and Bellamy got to be so close. 

“Now I’m just happy you’re here. And pretty much still totally stupid about you.” 

Clarke lets out a watery laugh, and before she can second-guess herself, she tugs Bellamy in by the collar of his shirt, pressing her lips against his. For a heart-stopping moment, he’s frozen against her, and then he melts. His mouth opens under hers and it’s like fire in Clarke’s veins as his hand untangles itself from hers and weaves through her hair instead, tugging her closer. 

When they break apart, they’re both beaming at each other like idiots, and Clarke laughs again, tucking herself under his outstretched arm. 

“I’m glad you came back.” He tells her quietly, pressing his lips to her temple.

“Me too.” Clarke grins. “Me too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this is officially the longest AU i've ever written. come cry with me on [tumblr](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)!


End file.
